


Raven's feather

by watermelloon (linumlea)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bilbo nearly dies, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post BotFA, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, because ravens are great, long-term sickness, minor homophobia, minor xenophobia, pet&owner love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linumlea/pseuds/watermelloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo returned from Erebor to his home, after seeing the beggining of restoration of the mountain and doing what was in his power to help rebuild the kingdom.<br/>Springs and autumns passed unnoticed. It was years since Bilbo last seen his friends from beneath the Mountain and then, during one harsh winter, he was overcome by sickness. Even though it's summer now, it doesn't seem to be going away - the apothecaries and wisewomen don't know what is it that rots him from inside.<br/>What will happen to him and his most loyal companion?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Bell?”, Bilbo asked wearily.

“Yes, master Baggins?”, she rushed to him, her skirts rustling.

“I'm... I'm afraid I won't...,” he breathed in heavily. “I'm afraid that's it.”

“Master Baggins?”

He swallowed with difficulty, through dry and sore throat. “I have seen things like this before. People... People getting better one night and then, then they found them dead the next morning.”

She gasped. “Master Baggins, you can't speak like that! You will be fine!”

“I appreciate it, Bell, I really do,” he smiled. “It would be better to make amends still. Would you be so kind to hand me papers and the quill? The black one.”

Bilbo thought about his house. It was big, spacious, one of most beautiful in whole Hobbiton. Entirely too big for one lone hobbit. It should be filled with laughter, with pitter-patter of many feet. He couldn't fulfill it's potential, but Bilbo knew who could. The first letter he wrote was to his cousin Drogo and his wife Primula. Newlyweds could use a house and even on his deathbed Bilbo wasn't going to give up the house of his parents to Lobelia.

He was getting weaker witch each passing minute, weariness nestling inside his bones, growing, expanding. Bilbo had to rest when he finished the last sentence and put away the letter. Through hazy eyes he gazed at the second parchment, wondering to whom he should write next. A sudden cough made him double over. Time was escaping Bilbo. He pressed the quill to paper, lines becoming less and less distinguishable.

Bilbo was half aware of what he was writing. He suppressed a sob, when his hand gave up and the black feather of his quill fell from his suddenly stiff fingers.

He was lying in his bed, tears prickling at his eyes, barely having strength to catch one breath after another. A small caw made him turn his head.

Nêzusul stood on his nighstand. The raven's eyes gazed at him with human-like sadness.

“Hello, birdie,” Bilbo said quietly, small smile appearing on his pale face. “I'm sorry to leave you like that.”

Raven let out a sound like a sob, at which Bilbo couldn't stop a teardrop falling from his eye.

“You have to go Erebor now, alright? It's your home,” he pleaded.  Nêzusul cawed angrily and jumped up to his head. He nestled himself in the crook of  Bilbo's neck and gently squawked, until Bilbo started caressing him with weariness.

“I'm so sorry, birdie. I'm so sorry...”

He started losing consciousness. The last thing he heard was the weeping of the bird snuggled up to his neck.

 

_Five years earlier_

The weather was getting warmer with each passing day. Bilbo took a deep breath as he stood outside the gates - he felt it in the air, the smell of fresh green and warm soil. It was time to take his first steps towards the green fields of his homeland.

The neighborhood of Erebor was still bare, the nature was only starting to take back what the sheer evil presence of Smaug did to all the life in the earth. But there were signs of growth and life beaming from every crack and bend, and it was enough for Bilbo to start feeling homesick. He missed his garden and his very own, comfortable bed. But it wasn't only that - he missed his clothes and his pantry, and social events, and quiet times between dinner and supper, when he reached to bookshelves for another adventure to go, even if only in his imagination. He missed belonging.

Bilbo looked down on himself and sighed. The clothes he took with himself after dwarves knocked on his door were now in a state resembling old kitchen rags. The Company did manage to find him some things, but they were all too big and baggy. The thing he liked most was the fur, brown, thick, from unknown animal. It kept him warm both during day and night, even now, as the inside of the mountain was chilly at best.

Up until now he did what he could to help dwarves regain the splendor of once magnificent Erebor. Bilbo might have been small and of no great strength, but he had other qualities not many dwarves possessed. One of them was the ability to talk to elves without starting to throw axes, even if elves did their best to bring out the worst in him. They proved themselves to be ruthless in the council room, sometimes grouping with Men in their efforts to get the best possible of negotiations.

Dwarves of other mountains were, quite honestly, no better, but he didn't have that much knowledge about that. They refused to speak Westron during discussions and simply growled Khuzdul in guttural voices, when their expectations were not met. Truly, the only certain outcome of negotiating was a headache for everyone involved, especially Balin and Thorin, since it was them that had to make sure their side came out, if not successful, at least without losses. Numerous times had Bilbo seen them both staying behind in the chamber, heads propped up weakly on their hands, as they tried to massage away the inevitable migraines.

Today was one of those days. Thranduil didn't grace them with his presence, instead sending envoys to vouch for his profit. Bilbo had a suspicion that Thranduil didn't even care about those negotiations once he got his jewels back, but simply wanted to irritate the dwarven king, not without success. After elves left for the day, Thorin leaned forward and took his crown off, only to bury his face in his hands.

Bilbo heard him mumbling curse-like words under his breath, when he approached him with water. It was always better to leave Thorin to his own devices after a day like that. Bilbo had his own method for taking all the pressure away, which was why he was so often found outside, simply taking a walk.

He had other problem now. He told the dwarves he would be leaving had the spring came a couple of times already, but he had to make it official now. It was high time he thanked for their hospitality and left for his home. He had this feeling of longing for a few weeks now - while Erebor might have been nice to see and visit once in a while, Bilbo certainly felt out of place here, under all the weight of bare stone. It wasn't his home. And he haven't seen his hobbit hole for almost a year now! Who knows what happened in Shire in the meantime? And imagine what people must be talking about him right now, after he run out like a madman.

He knew this whole adventure will be very memorable. He has seen a lot, both during the journey and during his stay in the Lonely Mountain. Once he returned to his hole he was going to start writing it all down. Oh, how many things he wanted to write about! The orcs, spiders, elves, dragons, and, of course, dwarves. He learned a lot about them during this few months. The Company was keen on making him participate in everything, whether it was sharing meals, councils with envoys of all possible races or the coronation. Yes, he has seen the coronation of the dwarven king! He was quite sure no outsider, and certainly no hobbit, has seen such a ceremony before. It took place but a few days ago, on the first day of spring, to mark the revival, both of the nature and of the dwarven kingdom. His only regret was that he understood so little of what was said - almost everything was in Khuzdul, so Bilbo had to rely on his friends for translation. While dwarves didn't mind sharing many things with him, their language wasn't one of those. They refused quite profoundly.

It was only for Bilbo to know that he was able to pick up a few words here and there.

He stood, taking deep breaths of warming air and tried recalling all the details of the ceremony he could remember, when a weird sound caught his attention. It was a cry. Something, somewhere near was crying in anguish. Bilbo frowned, wondering if he should look for the source, but then the creature cried again and he started searching around.

He searched and searched, even when the cry stopped. When he looked behind every stone and into every hole in the ground in the hearing range he was almost ready to give up, before he came upon a deep crack in the ground and heard a small whimper.

It was a raven chick, lying on the ground in the cavity, wailing helplessly.

"Oh, poor little thing," Bilbo sighed. "Where might your parents be?"

He looked around, but there was no sign of other ravens. He started wondering if he should get down and fetch the little bird, but he never had to rescue any animal like that and wasn't sure what to do. Bilbo decided to not disturb it until he was sure its parents weren't going to do anything about it and keep some distance from the cavity. He walked away to find some spot from which he could keep an eye on it. Upon finding a place to sit down, he reached for his pocket. It was a good time for a pipe.

 

Bilbo winced and got up. He sat on the cold stone for a few hours now and nothing happened. It was still too early to know if the chick was abandoned, but he couldn't sit there the rest of the day, so he opted to come back later. In the meantime, he could find someone to help him rescue the raven if it came to it and finally eat something. He only ate breakfast that day and it was unacceptable, as his hobbit nature dictated him.

He came back to the cavity soon, with full stomach and Bofur's promise to help. The raven was still lying there, but even its wailing stopped. Bilbo knew the ground was cold and there was no time to waste now. Raven's parents were nowhere to be found and the little thing might freeze to death.

"It's Ereborian raven," Bofur said when Bilbo came back with him to the cavity and he spotted the chick. "How did it get here? It would have made more sense if you found it near Ravenhill."

They needed a ladder to get down to the bird. After coming down, Bilbo crouched and hesitantly reached for it. Little thing barely opened its eyes when Bilbo wrapped it into some cloth and cradled it his chest to go up the ladder. Its feathers were still scarce and more grey than black.

"It's so cold. I hope we weren't late," Bilbo worried. Raven's closed eyes pulled strings in his heart.

 

Next hours raised Bilbo's anxiety to levels even elves never managed to. Raven was barely breathing, when he laid him down into an improvised nest near the fireplace.

'It must be thirsty and starving,' Bilbo thought. He tried giving the bird drops of water directly into its beak, because it didn't even open its eyes anymore. Bird swallowed weakly and distressed Bilbo sat beside it the whole night.

The next day Bilbo excused himself from the negotiations to care for the raven. While Balin and Thorin were not happy with Bilbo's absence, he felt it was fully justified. Saving raven chicks surely was more important than elves. To his delight raven was able to start drinking more water. At the end of the day it opened its eyes again and shrieked hoarsely.

Days passed quickly and before Bilbo knew it, raven was with him for a whole week. Bird regained its energy as it swallowed pretty much anything Bilbo provided him with. In the time between the meals, bird was either sleeping or hopping clumsily around Bilbo's chamber. The sheer joy of seeing it up and about was enough a gratification for sleepless hours and all the worry when raven barely had strength to swallow water.

Now, however, Bilbo's nursling refused to leave his side for even a moment.

"What am I going to do about you, little bird?", he asked the raven. "You will have to return to your kind soon and I have to go home as well."

Raven stared at him in wonder, with its head crooked and cawed in response, before coming up to him and hopping around, asking to be picked up. Bilbo's shoulder was a perfect place to sit, after all.

Needless to say, the whole Company had to see the bird. There was no end to 'Och's and 'Ach's, because ravens' chicks are arguably one of the most adorable things in the world, once they start growing proper feathers and to which the raven was on the good way. Bird received several gifts, among which were pieces of cloth, various food and a wooden raven carved by Bofur, which at first was treated with caution, which soon turned into adoration.

Bilbo knew it was a wrong thing to do, to let the bird be spoiled so much when it was to be returned to wildlife soon, but when something so adorable cawed at him to be picked up, he suppressed pangs of his conscience and adored the raven.

It was Thorin that sown doubt into Bilbo's mind.

"Have you decided for a name for it?", he asked when Bilbo came with the raven to one of the meals, because bird shrieked at him when he tried to leave it in his chamber.

"No, no, I don't want to name it. I would only miss it more, when I will be forced to leave it here."

Thorin's brow furrowed. "You intend to leave it in Erebor?"

"Yes, that was my plan. It will be happier among its own kind, won't it?"

"It would if it was any other raven," Thorin leaned back in his seat and placed his joined hands in his chest. "Ravens of Ravenhill are special, they lived here even longer than dwarves and picked up a few things. There is a saying in our language about them: "to have ravens' gratefulness for something". It means to not be able to thank enough for someone's deed."

Bilbo listened with utmost interest, but not yet understanding how it concerned him. When he asked about it, Thorin chuckled.

"This raven is indebted to you for saving its life. It will stay with you, for better and for worse, for as long as it lives."

Bilbo turned his head to look at the raven sitting on the table in front of him. Raven cawed at him and snuggled to his hand. Bilbo sighed. "There goes all my decisiveness to leave him behind. What should I name you then?"

Behind his turned head, Thorin gazed at Bilbo in wonder. "May I have a suggestion?"

Bilbo nodded, a bit surprised.

"Nêzusul."

Bilbo repeated the name a few times. "Does it mean anything in particular?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell," Thorin denied, giving Bilbo a quick smile.

"Dwarves and their secrets," Bilbo shook his head. He looked back at the raven. "Your name shall be Nêzusul then."

Raven crooked its head and walked away to disturb other members of the Company, especially Fili and Kili, since they were completely enamoured with it and fed it whatever it requested from their plates.

"Is there anything else I should know about Ereborian ravens? Do they talk?", he joked while taking sips of his tea.

"They might," Balin confirmed seriously. Bilbo almost spat his tea. "Some of them do learn to talk. But as I said, only some of them. They certainly are more intelligent than ravens anywhere else. Ravens from Ravenhill accompanied dwarves for many centuries, in the process learning and acquiring a few things. Talking is one of them."

"And other things?"

Balin stroked his beard in wonder. "Some say there were ravens that could perform simple magic. Some were loyal companions of kings and even advised them," he said. "Though now I wonder if they have not lost their abilities, after being away for so long."

Bilbo mused upon hearing such news. When Kili brought back the raven, which now was full and happily dozing off, Thorin grinned.

"Raven will be quite a token of remembrance, won't it?"

Bilbo agreed with a laugh. "It will, it will. I wonder what my neighbors will say about it. But what am I worrying about," he sighed suddenly. "I have already lost every ounce of respectability."

Thorin rested his head on propped up hand, his expression turned stern. "It is a shame you intend to return to your home so soon. I could use your help with _elves_ for a bit longer," he winced as he mentioned the hateful race.

"I'm afraid I have been taking advantage of your hospitality for far too long now," he shook his head when other dwarves overheard it and tried opposing, quite loudly and with heart-warming fierceness. "I should leave for my home."

"If there is nothing that would make you stay, I suppose the only thing left is to ask you to not hold back if you need anything for your journey," Thorin nodded. "When do you intend to leave?"

 

It took entire week for Bilbo to prepare for his journey back to Shire. He had a nagging suspicion that at least some of the Company members did what they could to make him stay longer. But, at last, the morning came and he was ready to leave, Nêzusul propped safely on his shoulder, though Bilbo was sure raven will soon find his way to one of pockets of his jacket and fall asleep there without a care in the world.

He was supposed to meet with Gandalf by the gates, now almost repaired, as the incoming dwarves were quick to rebuild their once lost home. It was partially them that helped Bilbo reach his decision to leave. It simply wasn't his home.

Once he came out in the first sunlight of the day, he was surprised by the view of the whole Company waiting for him alongside the old wizard. One after another dwarves came up to him, some simply shook his hand bidding him a safe journey. Dwalin was gruff and unawarely tried to deprive poor Bilbo of his arm. Balin nodded at him with a smile, though his eyes were suspiciously moist. Oin shook his hand and loudly urged him to stay safe. 'Ri brothers provided him with small presents - Dori gave him a handkerchief, Ori green mittens (where did he find green wool was a great mystery to Bilbo) and Nori gave him a small casket, with a caution to only open it in great need. Needles to say, Bilbo made a mental note to not open the casket as long as he lives. Bombur and, to Bilbo's astonishment, Gloin seized him in rib-crushing hugs, leaving him gasping for breath. Bifur, whose head was now free of orcs blade, gave him a small pouch. As Bofur explained, he chose some delights for Nêzusul, because Bifur was absolutely in love with the bird, not without reciprocity from bird's side.

Finally it was time for royal family. Kili and Fili, disheartened, bid him goodbye and made sure to do the same with Nêzusul. The king stood behind them, smiling distantly.

"Safe journey, master Baggins," he said, bowing his head slightly. He hesitated, before following Bombur's and Gloin's example. He let go after just a moment and petted Nêzusul under chin.

"You are always most welcome here, Bilbo. We are eternally grateful for your help," Thorin assured.

"And you all are in my home as well. Don't bother knocking! Just come in," he said.

It was time. Bilbo took one last look at the whole of the Company, straightened his backpack and with a sniffle he nodded. He turned away to face the journey and alongside with Gandalf made his way to the path. The road was waiting. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse.

Nêzusul was making a fuss. Again.

It really wouldn't have been that bad, if he wasn't making it at 5 o'clock in the morning, when the sun has barely shown a little bit of its light over the horizon. Bilbo sighed and tried to open his eyes, without much result. Though, if he was to be honest, he didn't try that hard.

He stumbled from his bed, eyes lifted the bare minimum to not walk into furniture, and went to open the window for his bird to go exploring before breakfast. It was a newly established custom - apparently seeing the rise and setting of the sun has opened new doors in raven's mind. Nêzusul's curiosity seemed to have no end, much like little children's. However, the custom has not yet settled for Bilbo, who hated leaving his warm, comfortable bedclothes. Every night he would try to remember to leave the window open, but so far to no avail. And so the fuss was made.

When Bilbo opened his eyes again it was time for breakfast, as announced by a certain feathery creature hopping on his duvet and cawing at him. While Nêzusul was an early bird, he did not like going around hungry. At the very least, he understood Bilbo's need to sleep longer than until the sunrise and allowed him another hour of undisturbed slumber. But why didn't Nêzusul try to provide for himself, during his morning outings? Simple - the taste of whatever the young bird was able to find outside, couldn't possibly be compared to what Bilbo would have on his plates for breakfast. Nuts, fruits, pastry and various other things were much tastier when served on plates and even better when stolen from master of the house.

Many new routines were introduced to Bag End after Bilbo's return. Having a bird accompanying him during every meal. Black beady eyes watching him fill parchment after parchment of paper in his study, when he tried to write down everything he experienced during his journeys. Afternoon walks with Nêzusul bringing him whatever he deemed worth of Bilbo's interest, be it a shiny stone, a beetle of unusual color or a simple twig. By the end of the first month Bilbo already had a chest full of various trove, as he simply didn't have a heart to throw those little keepsakes away. At first he didn't know what to do with their abundance, but soon he found a use for some of them - shiny pebbles were used to decorate the fireplace and the path to the back door, whereas twigs Bilbo formed in a shape of a basket for Nêzusul to sleep in.

Around the time for elevenses, when Bilbo was humming in his kitchen, a sharp knock to the front door startled him. He knew this time would come, but he was hoping for at least a few days more free of disturbance. At last, the social calls had to start.

"Bilbo! What a delightful day, isn't it?", greeted him his cousin Fortinbras Took, as he settled into the armchair in the cool shadow created by the back porch of Bag End. Sunlit garden was buzzing with hidden life of insects, hot weather clearly motivating them to keep busy.

"It certainly doesn't feel like autumn is on its way, does it?", Fortinbras was keen on keeping the conversation going. Bilbo nodded absentmindedly, pouring chilled, honey sweetened tea into his cousin's cup. His mind wandered off again, current surroundings mingling with past, the feeling of wind carrying hot air taking his thoughts away to different fields. Sometimes a sudden realization hit him - it was just a year ago...

Bilbo shook his head, when he realized he has been daydreaming instead of entertaining his guest. "I'm sorry, you were saying?", he smiled back at Fortinbras. 'Seems my manners got tad rusty,' Bilbo thought bitterly, but he was sure he will have time and many occasions to work on them.

"I was just saying that your garden is very well kept..."

His cousin continued the pleasantries for so long, Bilbo started to get annoyed. He knew very well why Fortinbras was trying to butter him up - he wanted to be the first one to learn about what happened to Bilbo, when he put company of dwarves over the safety of his own home. Everyone already knew that Bilbo came back with a certain raven. It was hard not to notice, when a big, black bird suddenly started haunting the Shire, evidently taking Bag End as a starting point to all of his outings. The rest of Bilbo's adventure, however, was shrouded in mystery.

"So, my dear cousin. You have been gone for over a year. Where have you been to, during your absence?"

"I traveled quite far, visited a few places. It was a real adventure. But do tell me, Fortinbras, what happened in the Shire when I was away? As a thain, you must know the most. I was actually considering paying you a visit in a few days, but you have forestalled me."

"Oh, you know the Shire, nothing really happens here. A marriage or two, children born, a lot of bickering. I never knew how hard would it be to work as a thain, old Gerontious always made it look so easy. There are people coming every day, asking me to judge on whose side is the right. Do you remember how Old Took used to throw people out of the door, when they came in with petty matters to him? Sometimes he threw whatever fell into his hands, growling that he had no time for that! Oh, what a sight it was!"

Bilbo agreed with a wide smile and they fell into a comfortable discussion and recalling the memorable events in the history of closer and extended family. They both marveled upon a very early engagement of Bilbo's cousin Drogo to one of Gorbadoc Brandybuck's girls. Fortinbras was once interrupted mid-sentence, when Nezusul saw fit to attack the table from air and steal a biscuit. It wouldn't have been much of a problem, but raven decided he wanted the one in Fortinbras's fingers. The thain remained nobly calm and simply shook his head in a very dignified manner at Bilbo's apologizing, while reaching for another pastry. Bilbo couldn't have scolded Nezusul even if he wanted, as the bird flew away right after committing the crime.

Before they knew it, it was almost time for luncheon.

"Is it so late already? Forgive me, Bilbo, I lost track of time. Thank you very much for a very pleasant conversation. I have to be in Brandy Hall for luncheon, so I would better hurry."

"No, thank you, cousin, for visiting."

Fortinbras was just outside the door, when he exclaimed and turned back to Bilbo.

"Ah, I would have forgotten! Aunt Mirabella _demands_ your presence for tea, on the day after tomorrow. Will you come? Rorimac will be there for sure, Asphodel, maybe Primula with Drogo. Aunt Donnamira seems to be bringing someone from the Boffins. I will be going by aunt's later, I may as well pass over your reply."

Bilbo sighed, but confirmed his presence nonetheless. It's better to simply get it over with.

 

  _Red flowers blooming on the snow. Fingers grasping ice and stone._

_Bilbo raised his head, gaze falling on the pale skin of a giant form ahead of him. He heard nothing but his own breath - rugged, shuddering, air forced in and out._

_He saw a pale limb dragging another shape into the water, keeping it under the surface. Hands and legs flailing helplessly with less and less strength._

_A roar came from somewhere near. Elven blade slowly fell down. Petals started falling from the cuts, painting the snow in crimson.._

_Bilbo wanted to scream, run, kill. He felt hot tears streaming down his face, but he couldn't move. He could only watch, when two blades pierced two skins._

_He found himself standing by the shape on the snow. Were those red roses that adorned the fallen body? Someone was whispering his name._

_He looked down at his bloodied hands. Familiar palms were grasping at them, pleading._

 

Bilbo was awoken by his own cry. He abruptly rose and dragging one shuddering breath after another, he wiped his hands on the covers repeatedly, again and again, until his skin started to sting.

When he calmed down, Bilbo shakily got up to splash his face with water. He stood by the basin, when his legs gave in and he has fallen to his knees.

"They are fine," he said out loud, voice hoarse. "They are fine."

But he didn't feel assured at all.

Behind Bilbo's turned back, Nezusul's ruffled feathers slowly eased down. He watched Bilbo with distress and fear, in silence.

 

He still felt uneasiness rummaging under his skin, when he left through Bag End's door to aunt Mirabella's. Nightmare caught him by surprise - the last time he had one was a few days after his twenty-fourth birthday. But at the time many people suffered from nightmarish memories of Fell Winter. Bilbo flinched, when he remembered those days - his mother straining to find him even a bit food and Gandalf appearing one day on their doorstep with a loaf of stale bread and a few frozen fish. Children wailing and then growing quiet. Sometimes a grim Ranger passed by, his clothes stained. Bodies were left on the snow, because it was impossible to dig graves in the frozen ground.

Bilbo forcibly shook his head. What good would it do to remember all those painful things? It only added to his already bad mood.

"Bilbo!" someone cried out from ahead. He looked up and saw Primula waving at him with a grin. She was a bright, pretty young lady, one that turns many heads as she walks through the market, but she herself only had eyes for Drogo. Bilbo smiled back at her, both happy for seeing his friends and anxious to meet so many people after solitude.

Primula ran up to open the gateway for him and hugged him tight. Behind her stood Drogo, who nodded at him with a smile.

"So good to see you, cousin! You _must_ tell us all about your adventure! I can't wait to hear what you have seen, you always had a gift for storytelling," Primula chattered as she and Drogo escorted Bilbo to the door. There was quite an age difference between him and those two youngsters, but somehow he always felt better with them than people his age. Primula had unlimited energy and witty humor, a bit tempered by Drogo's very Bagginish calm demeanor.

"I heard about your engagement. Congratulations!", Bilbo said. "When is the wedding?"

"Next year maybe," Drogo replied. The three of them crossed the threshold, Primula first. "We are not in a hurry"

Inside an abundance of hobbits surprised Bilbo. There was of course his mother's sisters: aunt Mirabella and aunt Donnamira, then aunt Mirabella's son Rorimac, who waved at Bilbo from an armchair, and Rorimac's sister Asphodel with her fiance Rufus. He didn't see the rest of Mirabella's children anywhere, but they must have hidden somewhere in the smial.

What Bilbo couldn't understand was an amount of ladies. When he looked around, he was only able to recognize a few faces, but older ladies seemed to know him very well. They nudged their daughters when he was passing by and smiled forcefully. Bilbo felt compelled to pick up his pace and find the hosts as soon as possible.

"Aunt Mirabella! Hello! Thank you for the invitation."

"Bilbo, my dear!" she exclaimed loudly. "Let me see you. Ah, you have lost weight! This is no good, no good at all. You need to eat more, dear boy! Please do come to dinner next Mersday."

Bilbo thanked her and tried to subtly inquire about a number of guests. "I see some new faces."

Aunt Mirabella made a cunning face, which Bilbo took as a very bad sign. "Yes, yes, don't mind them, don't mind them at all. Have some tea now. Plum cake?"

 

"Rorimac, long time no see. How are you?" Bilbo greeted his cousin and sat down next to him in the main room. Rorimac held up his cup in response.

"Good, good, thank you. What about you? And your infamous adventure?"

"Maybe I will tell you about it soon. In the meantime, please do tell me - what is it with this abundance of aunt Mirabella's guests?"

Rorimac raised his brows. "Do you really not know?", he scoffed when Bilbo made a noncommittal gesture. "They are on a hunt."

"A hunt."

"Yes, for your gold."

"My what now?"

"Your gold. The one you brought from your adventure," he elaborated as Bilbo's expression turned more and more confused. "There is a rumor going around since you came back, about the treasures you have presumably acquired from dwarves."

"Well, that's... That's just..."

"Can you judge those mothers? They just want to ensure the future of their daughters," Rorimac turned away, so Bilbo couldn't tell how much sarcasm was in his words. In Rorimac's hands magically appeared two glasses of brandy, upon further inspection proven to be peach flavored.

"It's no wonder, though, that so many of those women are interested in you. Good looking, very hobbitish," Rorimac handed Bilbo a handkerchief, when the last mentioned almost spat out his drink. "You can antagonize me all you want, but that will only prove my words. Not to mention the fact that you are in possession of one beautiful house _and_ a chestful of gold. Heavens, if I was a fair lass, I would have snatched you for myself!"

"I hate to tell you, but we are too close related. Tell me, dear cousin, how many glasses of brandy did you have so far?"

Rorimac, who was trying to take account of branches on their family tree on his fingers, shot Bilbo a wry look and started counting from anew, glasses this time.

Bilbo sighed and leaned back in the armchair. Primula pulled Drogo away somewhere, aunts Mirabella and Donnamira were plotting over their tea in the corner of the room - judging by the number of times he caught them peeking at him, he deduced their schemes included his persona. It was terrifying, but not unknown. The rest of the guests were fashionably ignoring everyone and everything. Bilbo started wondering where uncle Gorbadoc managed to flee when people flooded his house.

He excused himself from Rorimac, who in the mean time has lost interest in counting and decided to draw one of the lasses into a conversation.

Bilbo felt strangely comforted by the corridors he used to run through as a child. His feet took him to the back door, into the garden deprived of guests. The only one sitting on the bench under a cherry tree was his uncle, the master of the house in which the tea party attendees currently roamed.

Gorbadoc nodded his head absently when he noticed Bilbo and patted the empty space next to him. Bilbo sat down with a huff and graciously accepted pipe-weed offered to him. They were sitting in silence, marveling at the tranquility of the moment.

"How was your adventure?", Gorbadoc asked finally.

"It was... memorable," Bilbo replied after giving it a bit of thought. His uncle nodded again - he was a man of few words and few words he needed to grasp the idea.

"A black bird stole one of Mirabella's plum cakes yesterday."

Bilbo choked on the smoke. "Did it?", he asked coughing. Gorbadoc muttered in response.

"Was aunt mad?"

"Not enough to revoke your invitation, apparently."

"I will have to apologize to her for Nezusul and bring him around next time. He stops stealing from people once he gets to know them and like them. But the concept of not stealing from people he doesn't like is still too hard grasp. I'm working on it, though."

His uncle chuckled. "Quite a companion you managed to find."

"I feel it was more him finding me, than me finding him."

 

Deeper into the afternoon Rorimac's words were proven to be true, as well as Bilbo's bad feelings - Mirabella had _plans_.

Bilbo decided to go back inside to talk to Rorimac again. Rorimac was a grim man, sometimes difficult to converse with. Bilbo liked him though, liked discussing with him due to his unique observations, and because he was one of few hobbits in his immediate surroundings that read more than not. People said Rorimac was so gloomy because he read a lot - Bilbo thought he was gloomy because he didn't read enough. Perhaps Rorimac's abundant imagination had something to do with that forlornness of his.

But before he could find his cousin, a firm hand grasped him by the elbow and steered in the direction of the kitchen. Aunt Mirabella only grinned when he asked what was this all about and Bilbo felt a shudder creeping up his spine. On their way deeper into the house they passed Drogo, who took one look at them and pressed a small glass into Bilbo's hand, waving him off with a somber expression.

Aunt Donnamira stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips. She shook her finger in front of Bilbo's face, making him cross his eyes in surprise.

"Don't think for even one moment that you can get out of this, lad!" she told him.

"I- I- I don't even know-" Bilbo started, but Mirabella cut him off.

"My dear boy, there is nothing we want for you more than happiness, you know that, yes? So listen closely – this house of yours, doesn't it feel too big for just one?"

Bilbo flinched. He was trying not to think about it, busying himself however he could, but there was no way to escape the thought. The house was too big, too quiet, too lonely. He laid at night, gazing at the ceiling, the stillness of the rest of the house almost palpable. He could feel the particles of dust covering everything slowly, inescapably.

But his aunts paid no attention to the sudden fearfulness and despondency appearing on his face.

"Your father didn't build that whole big house for just one person, Bilbo, dear boy," Donnamira said with confidence. "So. There is this really nice girl. From Budgeford. She is one of Fallohides, you know them. Honestly, their sharp noses are quite unsettling, but you will find she is very, very nice."

"Budgeford," Bilbo repeated weakly. His aunts nodded enthusiastically and looked at each other, smiling.

"In fact, she is here right now," Mirabella declared and stuck her head through the door before Bilbo could stop her. She called someone and opened the door all the way.

Bilbo grimaced, wanting nothing but to run away. He knew what his aunts were playing at and while he appreciated their worrying over him, he really wished they would stop.

"Bilbo, meet Malva," Mirabella said excitedly. Bilbo looked up and felt cold dread reaching up his back. Why did it feel so very familiar?

"Mr Bilbo," Malva said, curtsying. Her black curls bounced off her shoulders and when Bilbo didn't reply, a frown appeared above her blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are hobbits so fun to write, I swear I could write another ten chapters just about them. But we got plot and places to be, so maybe just one more chapter? Or two. Oh gosh.  
> Sorry for any mistakes, English is still an enigma to me sometimes.


End file.
